Only War: Fate's Mercy
by Dawn Crescent
Summary: The planet Korsk has declared itself independent from the Empire, beginning a bloody rebellion. However, there are also rumblings of heretical movements within the Korskian Guard. Xenos hybrids have appeared in their ranks, and the elite XCOM regiment is the only one equipped to investigate the threat. Horrifying secrets are uncovered- will anyone survive the impending doom?
1. Introduction and Characters

So! I like both writing and Role-playing games. This is from a campaign ran by a friend of mine using the Warhammer 40k universe and the Only War system with some light thematic inspiration from the XCOM: Enemy Unknown turn-based game. I have not completed this story, nor do I plan for it to go beyond maybe 30k words, but might if the response is positive. M for gore, I think?

While these chapters are written about each real-life session, I hope the story is primarily character driven, rather than action/plot. We'll see how successful I am with that. Each chapter/excerpt is written from the perspective of one of the two characters I was playing that day. I'd like to also state here that I am not super familiar with all the terms and tech from the Warhammer: 40k universe, and if I misname anything, let me down gently. This story is, again, meant to be character driven.

The campaign we played was focused on two twin planets, Luxon and Korsk. Korsk has declared independence from the Empire, and are considered rebels. They have been at war with Luxon for many years now. However, recently a new development has been uncovered- there are a number of regiments among the Korskian Rebels who seem to have human-tyranid hybrids among them. A spec-ops regiment referred to as Xenoform Combat or XCOM has been deployed to investigate the reports of xenos activity. Among them are Maine Ockmann and Coyne Bjerke.

This chapter just contains the character biographies- you can read them, or not. They might give you some insight to the characters motivations that my writing might lack, or you can just try and glean their characters from my story alone. Your choice.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything except the character names, and that's shaky at best.

**Lieutenant Maine Ockmann**

Born and raised on Luxon, Maine Ockmann never considered herself a fortunate sort. Outside of her perfect test scores, she had never seemed to really have anything go her way. Plain and ungainly throughout her adolescent years, it seemed sure that she was destined to apply her sharp mind to a research role somewhere reasonably prestigious and live quietly on her own. But she drew the conscription tithe, and was shipped off to the Guard. Initially, those who knew her mourned the loss of such a smart girl to war, but it came as a surprise to everyone (perhaps herself most of all) when she excelled there beyond anyone's wildest dreams. Maine, friendless for most of her life, knew she had found her calling. Her skills in medicae were top-tier, and her kind manner made her beloved of her squad. She found herself a decent shot with a good lasgun as well. Maine felt she had come home.

However, near the end of her third deployment, her unit was wiped out nearly to the last man fighting rebel guardsmen. She herself was left for dead, her chest struck by a devastating bolt from an overpowered lasgun shot. Somehow, though, when reinforcements arrived, they found her trying to tend and protect the few comrades left to her, despite having rather more than one foot in death's door herself. Indeed, her heart had to be wholly replaced, and her entire body had been covered in deep scars from the energy of the bolt. It was a miracle she was alive at all, and Maine always remarked afterwards that she felt all the luck in her life had been used up to live through that one moment. Afterwards, she was showered in medals, promoted, and reassigned. She was never quite the same, jumping at small sounds and sleeping as little as possible. An almost debilitating paranoia had taken hold of her. However, she dedicated herself ever harder to preserving the lives of her new unit, knowing they too would all too soon leave her in turn. A recent brush with a genestealer infestation along with her medical expertise has resulted in her recruitment into the XCOM regiment. She has never heard of the undercover regiment, but is determined to help her squad see the unlikely end of the mission.

Maine never regained the weight lost after her injury, and is fairly slight, and nearly every visible inch of her skin is covered in harsh scars like gaping cracks in dry ground. However, she has a smile ready for her squadmates, and is incredibly compassionate for those she considers allies. She has no mercy, however, for betrayers- her hatred for the rebels of Korsk in particular increased tenfold after her catastrophic engagement. Her hands have healed wounds many would simply write off as fatal- and are nearly as deadly with a lasgun in them. She has an unswervingly Loyal demeanor.

**Lead ****Sergeant Coyne Bjerke**

Coyne Bjerke would be the first to admit he suffered from small-man syndrome. Five foot eight inches isn't all that short, you may say, but his friends growing up were always taller, many nearly six foot by their teenage years. So he compensated by being the strongest, the fastest, and the smart- well, no, not the smartest. Coyne was never so thrilled as when he learned he was joining the Imperial Guard of Korsk- before the rebellion, of course. He walked into basic confidently, demanding to be put where the fight was hottest. They laughed at him, of course, put a pistol in his hands and assigned him to a regiment. Coyne proved to be both a constant issue and asset for every unit he was a part of. He was boisterous with his squadmates, disrespectful to his superiors, and had at best a passing disgust for orders he considered, in his words, "about as useful as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest." However, no one could deny his stellar performance and drive to be the best.

His rank constantly fluctuated as he was repeatedly disciplined and promoted. This was caused in part by an additional oddity: every squad he was assigned to invariably seemed to be wiped out. Catastrophe after catastrophe occurred, once even wiping his entire regiment out, and time and again Coyne's friends were ripped from him, leaving him with barely a scratch. Indeed, the worst injury he suffered was a broken rib from a point blank hand cannon shot- which he replied to by taking the sword off of his fallen commander's belt, and sticking it in the bastard who had shot him. Coyne dourly claims that his best trait had always been his luck. He became an experienced point-man, and excelled in stealth-intensive situations. However, he rarely gets close to squad-mates anymore, knowing to do so is only to get hurt when they are killed in their turn. The flashbacks are bad enough without adding more faces, and the medals on his uniform are over-heavy with old friends' sacrifices. After an encounter with genestealers resulted in another decimated squad, Coyne's covert expertise got him sent back to his homeoworld of Korsk to aid the XCOM regiment. He is looking forward to the near-suicidal mission.

Coyne is a short but solid man, with thick arms and a broad back. His dark eyes peer out from underneath a deep-set brow, and his mouth is constantly fluctuating from scowl to laugh with little warning given by his thickly bearded visage. However, despite his boisterous nature, he does not interact much with his squad, and tends to be unpredictable at the best of times. Every now and then, he seems to pause against his will, and is assaulted by visions from his violent past. He is most comfortable ahead of his regiment with just one comrade at his back, mono-knife in hand, scouting for danger and quietly deleting any straggling foes. He has a Loose Cannon demeanor, and his greatest wish is to die gloriously, where he will be honoured and remembered.

**This is only the bios, but feel free to review if there's anything that stands out.**


	2. Descent into Knowing

**Off we go. **

**Dislaimer: I don't own anything but the characters, and really not even them.**

**Only War: Apophis**

**Fate's Mercy**

**Lead Corporal Coyne Bjerke**

**06:00, Day 1, 946.M41**

_100m above Korsk…_

Coyne burped quietly, not bothering to cover his mouth. The Arvus he was currently being transported in was hardly packed, and he doubted the slim figure across from him was going to complain. Flight never quite agreed with him. It wasn't the motion so much as the idea of being so far away from the ground. He had always thought that gravity was far too clingy. Space was okay, though, if you didn't count the void. At least you wouldn't fall a thousand feet, with the whole time to think about what waited at the end. Coyne shuddered. He looked around the cramped craft. Other than the unknown person he was facing, it was just the pilot at the helm, and an engineer lurking around somewhere. Coyne shrugged and scratched himself, grunting. He craned his neck curiously, not trying to be subtle. Who was this guardsman across from him? He couldn't see rank or even figure really, but they were small enough to be a woman, and he was trying to make sure before he decided to be attracted to them. Noticing his attentions, the person raised their head and he got a complete glimpse of their face for the first time.

Light gray eyes that seemed nearly translucent stared back at him briefly, before nervously darting away, as if to assure themselves that the area was secure. They were quite remarkable- in fact, Coyne may even have called them beautiful, had he been the type. However, that was where the beauty ended. It seemed there was not an unscarred inch of flesh anywhere on the…woman? He was almost sure they were female now. But it was hard to tell, as the scars caught the eye and distracted from any existent feminine qualities on her face. After staring in mild shock for a moment, Coyne laughed with his typical booming quality.

"Wa ha ha! You've been through the mill and then some, haven't you lass? A broad like you must be tough to keep down. I hope you dinnae intend to collect any more like that on this deployment! Wa ha ha!" He slapped his knee for emphasis, his thick brogue strong in his speech. The woman smiled, and Coyne realized that his previous assessment had been mistaken. There was one more quality where her beauty resided still, after all- her gently teasing grin.

"Frankly, I'd rather no one on our side collect anything like this, ever." She said primly, amused by his antics. "I am Lieutenant Ockmann. No need to tell me who you are. Short as a ratling, rather louder than an ogyrn, and can't keep a promotion if it's forced on him? The one and only infamous 'Lead Corporal' Bjerke. The pleasure's mine." Her tone was lightly chiding, with just a bit of humour. As she spoke, her attention shifted away once more, checking the exits and corners of the small craft, before coming back to Coyne, whose genial mood had faded in a hurry.

Coyne scowled, the expression somewhat intimidating on his bearded face. He hated people mentioning his rank- and height especially. He couldn't help either. Well, technically he could help the rank but- it wasn't his fault! How was it his problem if the orders his superiors shat out were pants-on-head stupid? They must have been, since the ones who had given them were now dead. Just like the rest. Regardless, he decided to be offended, no matter how good-humoured the remarks were. He grunted ungraciously and stared at her scars a bit, trying to make her uncomfortable. She didn't seem to notice.

Finally he spoke again, goaded by her lack of reaction and his wounded pride.

"So what's a girl like you gonna do for us? Carry our guns, maybe? Keep the spare ammo handy, comfort the men, if you catch my drift?" he ground out, leering unpleasantly. He now knew she was a lieutenant, but rank had never stopped him before- he just wanted to bring her down a bit. Ockmann shifted her attention from her careful watch of the room back to him once more, a severe frown gracing her scarred visage briefly, before melting into an almost twisted smile.

"Emperor forbid I take on such difficult roles! After all, that would require me actually _finding _your manhood, and I would need better quality magnoculars than any that exist. Instead, I'll have the singular pleasure of scooping your intestines back into your stomach, or trying to keep all of your limbs attached. And if you or anyone else wrong our squad-" And as she said this, her voice became significantly colder, a high-quality laspistol came into her hand almost faster than his eyes could follow- "I can deal with that in a wholly different fashion. Does that satisfy you, _Lead Corporal_?"

His face turned a deep red behind his beard at her initial remark, but his indignation faded almost immediately. Her willingness to joke at his expense and make barefaced threats impressed him more than her words. He knew that he wouldn't need her healing, since he never got hurt, and he somewhat doubted her ability to hit him with any shot. But she was gutsy to keep sassing him. He snorted once, satisfied, his manner switching abruptly from spiteful to blasé.

"You want to patch up the grunts in our group, fine. I'll make sure no one bothers you while you do it." He crossed his thick arms across his chest and sat back against the uncomfortable seat, losing interest in the brief spat. Across from him, narrowed eyes glared briefly before softening and darting away to check the entrances once more. Did he imagine the quick smile that flitted across her face? He couldn't tell.

Before either of them could say more, the Arvus began to noticeably slow and descend. They had arrived. As the troop door opened, light flooded the dim room, and they both stood up, ready to face Korsk. Home again, Coyne thought. He had never thought to see it from the ground again. He figured his superiors didn't want to risk any stray patriotic feelings floating to the surface. He glanced at the impassive woman beside him. Her scars gave nothing away.

"What's your name, Ockmann?"

"Maine…Lead Corporal."

"Wa ha haa!"

**Thanks for reading. Reviews appreciated! But it's not like I need them.**


	3. The Boots

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the characters, but they're coming into their own.**

**Lieutenant Maine Ockmann**

**06:30, Day 1**

_XCOM Base Hangar_

Maine stepped from the Arvus' descending ramp gracefully, Bjerke's abrasive laughter following her a few steps ahead of the thick-set Lead Corporal himself. _A strange character_, she thought with a small smile. He seemed affable, if unpredictable. She wondered if he would willingly get closer with anyone in the unit- he seemed to avoid any communication other than jokes, insults, and his roaring laugh. His heavy accent somehow made him seem more intimidating rather than silly, and the thick black beard didn't exactly lend itself to a friendly look. But despite this, she liked him. Admittedly, Maine had not yet met a comrade she wholly disliked, but she felt like there was something more to Bjerke than he let on. She resolved to attempt to get through his guard at some point.

As the two stepped away from the Arvus, it wasted no time in moving away from the hangar entrance, and floated into line with a few other lighters of the same design. The hangar door shut tightly behind them, the sides seamlessly merging with the mountain outside, giving almost no trace as to the location of the base entrance. The hangar was relatively cramped, but Valkyries and Arvuses lined the walls as well as they could in the small space. Maine looked around interestedly. The flyers were in good condition, but were nothing special. She hoped their regiment was well-supplied. She only had a reasonable laspistol and her medical equipment with her. She looked over at her erstwhile travelling companion to find that Bjerk's attention was focused on the small group of people that stood in a loose formation nearer to the hangar's exit, presumably near the base.

"Our new comrades." Maine stated neutrally, watching the Lead Cpl.'s reaction. She noticed an expression she couldn't decipher briefly make an appearance, but was quickly smothered by Bjerke's thick, bearded smile.

"Aye! Let's hope they're not all a bunch of milksops. I suppose we're expected to go introduce ourselves, eh?" Without really waiting for an answer, he strode confidently into the midst of the soldiers. There were about two dozen of them, and a more varied group Maine had never seen. There were, of course, a number of experienced but fairly average-looking sorts. One of these was surrounded by much of the group, and seemed flustered by all the attention. They seemed to be excited about something- she caught the words "cook" and "delicious" float over the excited babble. There was a grizzled man whose face seemed a ruin. Perhaps from a death world? He didn't seem to be speaking as much, but was certainly part of the group.

Another tall man seemed to be making half the noise on his own, ranting to the younger solider in the middle of the group on how not feeding him first could- from some perspectives- be seen as heresy. Yet another man with arms like pistons wore a gas mask on his head, and stood very still at the edge of the group, watching the proceedings without a move. A massive, modified multi-laser was propped beside him. There was a soldier who was obviously a sniper, one who appeared to be attempting to get part of the groups attention, but they shunned him. Maine understood why. The guy was just… unlikeable, in some intangible way. She resolved to avoid him. A strange man in decorated armour stood quietly within the group, making a remark here or there. Another guardsman seemed to be watching him closely at all times, which tipped Maine off that he must be a psyker of some kind, if the intricate force staff he carried hadn't already. Near him was a guardsman with a sword and obviously cybernetic eye.

There was also a man with a drawn, taught face bearing the symbol of professional medicae on his uniform, just as it was on hers. She looked forward to getting to know him, and maybe learning something from one another. She searched for her rambunctious companion, wondering where he had got to while she had observed the group. Coyne had already began talking loudly to anyone who would listen about his previous exploits and expectations from them. A woman who had been withdrawn to that point might have been the only one paying attention.

Suddenly the hangar doors rumbled open once more, and she turned to face the incoming lighter. It seemed to fly a little unsteadily, and landed with a rather louder **thump** than her own had. Before she could wonder why, the door burst open and an ogryn tumbled out, wailing at the top of its…_his _lungs.

"DARRRRK! 'ARREN, IT WAS DARK IN DERE!"

Maine shook her head. She had rarely worked with ogryn for this very reason. Temperamental. Loyal to a fault, of course, and tougher than nails, but unpredictable. Not her style at all. A hulking guardsman jumped out of the Arvus after the great creature- evidently 'Arren'- and attempted to console him. The ogryn eventually consented to be led over to the others, which reminded her to attempt to integrate herself as well. It wouldn't do to be last, though she suspected that this constituted most of their outfit. It was not meant to be large, from what she could tell. Just looking around the hangar was enough to tell her that. Engineers worked at various tasks, carrying tools and supplies across the room. She could see weapons stacked neatly near the doors, seemingly waiting to be moved within. The entire area had an air of busy work, and competence- but also stank of secrecy and covert operations. Everything was just slightly… furtive. As if what they were doing wasn't typically non-heretical.

Maine shook off her doubts and approached the group confidently. She decided to attempt to get near to the younger guardsman who seemed to be the center of attention. She pushed past the shouting commissar, and craned to see. However, rather than being ignored as many of the shouting mob was, when he spied her, his face lit up in recognition and relief.

"Lieutenant Ockmann! Welcome to the to the XCOM facilities! I'm Corporal Brauhm, field medic and marksman." He shouted at her over the clamor. Maine struggled closer, until she was right beside him. He saluted, and they shook hands.

"At ease, Cpl. Why exactly.." She gestured wordlessly at all the attention he had. He shook his head ruefully.

"I'm also the cook here. My services are fairly popular with the men and women of our regiment."

Maine knew what guardsmen were expected to eat normally. She shuddered slightly. "I can see why. You said you were a medic?" The clipped, almost irritated tone of voice that she typically spoke in didn't seem to faze him one bit.

Brauhm nodded eagerly. "Not the caliber that you or Lead Sergeant Thorne are, of course. But I've been assigned to be your comrade for the duration of our mission! It's an honour to work with you, Lt.!" He saluted again. Maine hid her smile as best she could. Thorne must have been the other medic she had noticed earlier. She hoped that Brauhm was as competent as he was enthusiastic. She already suspected he was- he had steady hands that were the mark of a competent medic and marksman both- and probably cook, she reflected.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Cpl. Have you met anyone else yet?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but the base doors opened and a tall man in scratched but obviously well-maintained armour stepped through. He didn't say anything immediately, but he had a presence that drew the room's attention to him. All quieted, even the commissar bellowing in the back. He came to a stop in front of the mass of soldiers. The lower ranked soldiers snapped to a salute promptly, and everyone else followed suit at various paces. Quite aside from the Lt.'s stripes on his uniform, this was Richard Dick, one of the only survivors of the outbreak of Xenos that they had heard so little about. But the little they knew was enough to tell them they were in the presence of someone who had seen too much. He sighed and ran his hand over his bald head.

"At ease." He spoke quietly, but his clear voice carried easily to every ear in the room. "Now that you've all arrived, the Inquisitor wishes to brief you on what we're facing here. What little we know, anyway. On me, by rank. March!" He turned smartly the way he came and began walking briskly out. There was a pause as the men and women took in what he had said, and then a flurry of practiced motion as they arranged themselves by rank and followed the Lt. through the door. Maine was quite close to the front, being one of the higher ranking officers present, but she could hear Coyne mutter mutinously about how far back he was. There was no milling around or pushing- the regiment was fluid and practiced. There were no wholly novice soldiers here.

As they marched through the base, Maine's impression of a covert operation were further enforced. The walls were cleanly cut out from the stone of the mountain, and though well-lit and smooth, it was very obvious that they were underground. They passed a number of rooms, among them the barracks, where she saw standard beds and tables for the mess lining the walls- albeit far fewer than she was used to seeing. She figured that too many men here would only hinder their progress. It looked like there was a bar further in, in addition to training facilities.

The mission control room came up next, and they filed in. She was impressed but no longer surprised by the level of tech displayed. The room was a hive of movement, reports being passed back and forth, and orders spoken firmly. However, there was no panic or disorder. It was a well-oiled machine, centered around the great holo-globe hanging in the center of the room. Red and yellow flags poked up from various spots on what was evidently Korsk's surface. There weren't too many, but Maine suspected more would appear as their mission progressed. A tall man in Inquisitorial armour stood with his back to them, overseeing the room and occasionally picking out a flag and inspecting it more closely. Richard approached him as the troops finished forming up inside the door, making sure to leave room for any person on business to get through.

"Sir. Your regiment." After speaking, Richard stepped smartly into line at the front of the group, standing respectfully at attention with the rest.

The Inquisitor turned around. He had a long, gaunt face, and heavily lined eyes. Despite his weathered appearance, he was alert and sharp, and it was obvious they were in the presence of an acutely tactical mind. He looked them over, not judging them, but appraising them- looking at each individual as one would a tool, valuing each by their material worth. It was unsettling, but Maine approved. It was the kind of leader that was needed for this outfit.

""Good morning ladies and gentlemen." His voice was low, and somehow soothing. It had an air of competence. "You are here because I have personally selected each of you to be inducted into a special forces I have dubbed Xenoform Combatta, or XCom. I am Imperial Inquisitor Lucius Evander Paullos. I will be your commander while you are here. My word is your law for your stay." He eyed each of them in turn. "You have been chosen for your unique or exceptional skills and exemplary service in the past. I see men and women from many different places before me, but united as one under the Emperor. You will be as brother and sister here, in this new regiment, and against this foe." He gestured at the holo-globe behind him. A twisted, inhuman shape with too many arms appeared on the screen. There were no gasps among the guardsmen, but it was as if everyone drew back from the image without moving. They knew what this was. Tyranid. The word was one of unknown fear, faceless and remote, but all the more terrifying for that. A designation of 'Genestealer' appeared beneath the image, detailing what was known of its combat capabilities- as well as some speculation.

"This is the enemy," said Inquisitor Paullos unnecessarily. He described the events that had occurred months previously on Korsk, and the xenos nature of the 12th legion that had erupted in hybrids. The guards' faces were grim, but determined. He began to finish his briefing. "The genestealer is stronger than you, faster than you, and some of them are probably smarter as well. You must be disciplined and work as a team in order to survive and succeed. Your orders are to get to know each other. I want you functioning as a flawless machine come deployment. You will be on standby in shifts; we could receive a mission at any time." He met all of their eyes again, very seriously. "There is a heresy afoot, ladies and gentlemen, and your efforts are all that stand between your families, your homeworlds, and boundless alien hunger. Guardsmen: you are no longer soldiers of the Imperium. You are soldiers of Humanity. Dismissed. " He turned back to the holo-globe.

The troops filed out of Mission Control and made their way back towards the barracks. There was little talk. Each guardsman was pale from the realization that they would soon be fighting aliens instead of rebels. But no one was afraid- or if they were, they used that fear to feed anger instead. No Tyranid would be setting foot off this planet. They would stomp out the infestation here.

The next week went quickly. Maine spent her time researching their enemy as much as possible- little though that was. She was worried about her ability to stand up to such creatures. Though confident she would be able to repair any damage their devastating claws could inflict on her comrades, she wondered who would stitch her up if she was hurt. As such, she had great pleasure in talking with both her assigned comrade, Cpl. Tobias Brauhm, and the reserved Lead Sgt. Fraser Thorne. She imparted what tricks she could to them, and learned a bit from Thorne as well. He was a dour man, but very good at what he did. She worried somewhat about the substance abuse that she noticed- she was a doctor, after all- but she wouldn't be the one to rat him out to his superiors, unless it caused a problem for the men he cared for. She would wait and see.

Tobias on the other hand was likeable in every way. Not only was he affable and kind, but the food he made had him beloved of the entire regiment. He could only cook so often, of course, and hardly for the whole base, but when he was able, it was a treat. He seemed to know his medical work, although his situational awareness needed practice. He focused too much on the job at hand, rather than being aware of the battle around him.

As well, Maine made a point of seeking out Lead Cpl. Coyne Bjerk whenever she could. She couldn't say why, but he interested her. Maybe it was just a result of lingering camaraderie from the shared Lighter flight, but regardless, she tried to make sense of the strange, loud man. He was often at the bar whilst off-duty, accompanied by the other more drinking-prone members of the squad. Thorne was usually there was well, which suited Maine fine. The quiet woman who had listened to Coyne at their first meeting was sometimes seen at the bar as well, sipping something dark that smelled unhealthy. Maine learned that her name was Cpl. Nadine, and she had been assigned as Coyne's comrade. Perhaps that explained her initial attention with Coyne. Regardless, Coyne didn't seem to mind Maine's company at these times, and often referenced her brusque treatment of him at their meeting, to the laughter of the men and women around him. He was popular with many of the regiment for his loud humour and booming laugh, though some seemed to be irritated by his lack of professionalism and need to be the center of attention. Maine didn't blame them, but Coyne certainly knew how to hold a spotlight.

She got to know the other members of the squad less personally, though she enjoyed the company of one 'Bob'. He was gruff, but perhaps she felt some kinship, as he was almost as scarred as she. Maine found him to be likeable and funny, and surprisingly kind despite his outward appearance. By and large, the regiment was a good group of men and women, and Maine enjoyed getting to know many of them. However, no one forgot the reason they were there, and when the alarm signaling deployment sounded, there was not a guardsman caught slacking.

**Thanks for reading. Review if you want. It's not like I want you to, or anything.**


	4. Burning Bushel

**A/N: So I never actually got the Commissar's name from the player, and eventually it just kind of became how everyone referred to him. He's pretty comic relief anyway so it works.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the characters, and I think even they're getting sick of it.**

**23:19, Day 8, 946.M41**

**Lieutenant Maine Ockmann**

_XCom Base Barracks_

Maine was in the barracks, reading a mission report that had ended with genestealers wiping out the whole squad when she heard the alarm. She put aside her datapad and calmly got to her feet. Walking quickly, she arrived at Mission Control within a minute of the sounding. Lt. Richard, the Commissar, Lead Sgt. Sawyer**, **Lt. Darrien Kan, were already there, along with a number of guardsmen she didn't know. Richard gave her a brief nod before turning his attention to the inquisitor. She returned it and went to stand beside them. Behind her she heard pounding feet, and Cpl. Brauhm entered the room beside her, panting slightly from his brief run, but looking battle-ready. The Inquisitor stood where he had when they had first arrived, and began talking as soon as Brauhm and Maine were abreast with the rest of the squad.

"There has been a report of Xenos activity on a farmstead nearby. A few cattle were killed, and their corpses are still there. Your mission is to find and burn the livestock corpses. Your secondary objective is to remove any further xenos presence in the area. If any civilians are still in the area, attempt to extract them for questioning. I will be watching from here. Dismissed."

The squad wasted no time in getting armed before piling into the Valkyrie. The craft was cramped, and everyone was tense. Maine wasn't sure what to expect, but she was determined to do her part.

**01:59, Day 8**

**Lieutenant Maine Ockmann**

_Operation Burning Bushel_

The squad ran out of the Valkyrie as one entity, bristling with various weaponry. Maine took out her Laspistol and turned on her preysense goggles. It was dark, and she had no interest in getting caught in melee with a genestealer with her rifle out. She thumbed the Exterminator switch on the pistol briefly. Any Xeno attacking her in close range would be in for a surprise. She kept a sharp eye open for movement. They had a general map of the area, but it didn't help much from ground view. Richards voice came over the comms.

"Secure the house. Sawyer, find higher ground."

Radio silence reigned as the squad moved in. Sawyer reported that he and his comrade had scaled a tree and had a line of sight on the windows. Richard moved to the window and looked inside. He jerked his head back swiftly.

"Movement. Not sure what, but it's fast."

The Commissar moved up to a window and looked in as well, but reported nothing. Richard broke the window and moved inside. Maine kept a sharp watch out for movement, but couldn't see anything. A bit of sweat ran down her face, tickling her old scars. The dark night as seen through preysense goggles was visible, but somewhat nauseating. It made every heat signature a terrifying potential movement. Darrien moved to the next window and made to break in.

_**CRASH-CRACK**_

The shattering window broke the night's imposing silence all too suddenly, but it wasn't the quiet tinkle of Darrien moving into the house. As Maine swept her gun around towards the source, she just caught sight of a long, alien arm tipped with razor-sharp claws before the flash and distinctive crack of a las shot rang out. She barely blinked, but the arm was gone when she looked again. She spoke quietly.

"Darrien? Are you alright?"

He was standing before the window, weapon at the ready. He shook his head.

"Bastard didn't even have a chance to swing. Ugly thing, isn't he?" If he was shaken, his voice didn't betray it. "Thanks, Sawyer."

"Yep."

Richard's voice came over the comm once more.

"Leave the corpse and sweep the building. And damn, leave a couple for me."

The rest of the house was empty. Maine and the Commissar went around the side and checked the front area. The swingset rattled eerily, and swung as though a child had just gotten off it…or if something else had brushed up beside it. The truck in front was running loudly, its headlights cutting a swathe through the dim night. Maine put a finger to her comm.

"Movement on the swingset. Could be the wind. Be careful anyway."

Sawyer radioed next.

"There are tracks running into the cornfield over there, and something has gotten into the grain silo on the northeast side of the area. I heard something in the field beyond the barn, as well. Exercise caution."

Richard signaled for the squad to fall in behind him, and they advanced on the silo, burning their first cattle corpse on the way. Nothing else occurred, but every man and woman was tense. The grain silo and their second corpse approached. Richard signaled Darrien forward.

"Torch it. Everyone else, keep a watch out. We're going around to the tear."

The squad moved around the silo together. The gouges were soon in sight. Darrien whistled under his breath, and Maine shook her head worriedly. The tears made tracks through the metal as if it were paper. They were deep and long. Maine wasn't looking forward to having those claws near her, or any of her new friends. In the dark morning, the spilled grain looked a bit like blood and guts flowing out of a wound. Maine shook the thought off. Richard was signaling for the squad to move on the barn next.

As they got close, it was obvious that the barn door was ajar. Highly suspiciously ajar. Everyone exchanged looks. There was almost certainly something in there. Darrien quietly suggested blowing up the side of the barn and going in the way they'd never expect. Richard just looked at him like he was crazy before addressing the squad.

"I'm going to throw open the door. I want everyone else on overwatch for whatever is in there."

The Commissar**, **Darrien and Maine lined up in front of the door. They each pointed their weapon at it, ready for whatever was inside. Well, in theory. Richard held up three fingers.

"On my mark."

Maine's grip tightened. Richard ripped open the door and dove behind it, and not a moment too soon. As the door swung wide, a disturbing sight met their eyes. It looked like a genestealer, but where its chest would normally be, spines stuck out in every direction. It screeched as it saw them, the light from the distant truck throwing its shadow all over the barn's inside walls. Maine figured out what the creature was going to do a split second before it did it, and dodged out of the way. Spines flew over her head and struck the unfortunate Commissar and Darrien, resulting in cries of pain and shots gone wide. A few struck the door Richard was behind, but none were able to go through both it and the Sergeant's armour. The beast then charged out at the still-staggering Commissar. However, as it left the safety of the barn, another whip-**CRACK **rang out, and Sawyer's long-las took the mutant genestealer out, lighting it on fire with the sheer energy of the shot. It ran aimlessly into Darrien, and plowed into the field beyond him, spreading painful flames to all it touched.

Before they could react, however, two more genestealers leapt from the cornfield next to the barn, and a third from the field across the road. The Commissar barely had time to shout ("XENOS HERETICS!") as the nearest charged into him, ripping into his stomach. His blood sprayed out, cheerful yellow in the light of Maine's prey-sense goggles. Richard ignored the nearby Xenos, and with an enraged cry charged the furthest, his chainsword revving angrily. Darrien drew his powersword and attacked the one that was turning on Maine after savaging the Commissar, ignoring the flames appearing on his armour. The third genestealer ignored them all and bolted for Sawyer's tree.

Maine dropped to her knees, and summoned Tobias to her side in lieu of firing her weapon into the confused melee. She took her med-kit out and attempted to shove the Commissar's intestines back where they belonged ("IT IS HERESY FOR A COMMISSAR'S INTESTINES TO BE OUTSIDE OF HIS BODY!"). However, her hands slipped, and the confused clanging of swords on claws and burning fire did not help her concentration any. Tobias tried to aid her, but it was obvious he was doing even worse than Maine. Darrien was fighting for both their lives beside her, keeping the disgusting alien away from his downed squadmates. He was holding his own, but there was no telling how long he would last. She suddenly heard a scream of pain, and saw Richard fall to his foe. She made a split-second decision.

"Tobias! Get Richard back on his feet!" She screamed over the melee.

Tobias nodded stoutly, and broke away to sprint to Richard's side, kneeling and stopping the bleeding immediately, patching up the worst of the Sergeant's wounds. Before she could sigh in relief, she saw the genestealer loom up behind her comrade. Richard's sword arm flashed out, his desperate swing almost severing the creature's foot. But it was too late. Tobias' head tipped to the side disturbingly as the genestealer's claws nearly separated it fully from his neck in a single swing. He dropped to the ground, unmoving. Maine stared briefly in shock, forgetting that she was tending to the Commissar**.** Sawyer hadn't fired that she had heard in some time, Richard was still attempting to finish off the wounded genestealer, and despite some brilliant parries, she didn't think Darrien had much more in him. She almost lost hope for their survival, when a gruff, reassuring voice came over the comm.

"Alright folks, you're in a tight spot, but Bob's here. Here's what you're gonna want to do.."

Under Bob's solid direction, the battle straightened out somewhat. Richard finally ran the genestealer that had killed Tobias through, and was able to run over and relieve Darrien, who had finally stopped burning. They slew the last one handily. Maine finally stitched the Commissar's wound up, ("FEELING PAIN IS- ow- HERESY!") and he was able to stagger to his feet. She thought they were safe, when she remember the third xenos and Sawyer. She turned to where the tree was, to see it had fallen. She almost made to run over to it, but heard a shot and saw, distantly, the last alien die. She sighed a sigh of relief, and allowed herself to walk over to Tobias.

He was very dead. There was nothing that could be done for him- he had been dead almost before he had hit the ground. His last act had been to get Richard back into fighting shape, which had likely saved the battle, and all their lives. It didn't feel much like victory, though. Richard gave the order for Darrien to burn the remaining livestock corpses, and walked over to Maine. He looked at the dead man, and put a hand on her shoulder.

"He did good." He said it quietly, and not without gratitude for the fallen soldier. But Richard wasn't one to mourn overmuch. He patted her awkwardly and moved away to ensure everything was done right. The burning cornfield merged with the slowly brightening horizon. Maine stared at Tobias a second longer, and moved off to tend her comrade's wounds. She would do what she could for the living. If anyone asked, the smoke was causing her eyes to water.

The fire burned on as the Valkyrie took off.

**04:23, Day 8**

**Lieutenant Maine Ockmann**

_XCom Base Mission Control_

The Inquisitor ran his hand over his face as he surveyed the returned squad, sans the Commissar, who was already being tended by Lead Sgt. Thorne. He didn't seem upset, but certainly wasn't acting pleased either. His eyes lingered briefly on Maine's scarred visage for a moment before moving on once more. He stopped in the center of the room, standing before the haggard ground team and Bob.

"Congratulations on the success of the first deployment of this operation. Those who need medical attention, report to the medical bay. Dismissed, and get some rest. Lt. Ockmann!" He called after her as she turned to leave with the rest. She dutifully stopped and turned again. He eyed her searchingly.

"It may be some time before we find another comrade suited to your needs. You'll be suspended from active duty until they are recruited. This is not a punishment, but I simply will not have any soldier that can't perform to their maximum potential on the ground." He paused before speaking again. "I'm sorry about Cpl. Tobias. You can be assured that his sacrifice will not be forgotten by his regiment, even if the planet never knows what he did for it."

Maine could do nothing but nod tiredly. It wasn't unexpected. She wouldn't mind the rest, but she hoped she would get a replacement comrade soon. She wanted to be where she could do the most good. In the meantime, she would mourn her brief friend, and do her best for those that needed it. She straightened her back and walked briskly towards the medical bay. She had work to do.

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	5. Broken Moon

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the characters, and the lawsuit they're filing is getting hot.**

**19:34, Day 10, 946.M41**

**Lead Corporal Coyne Bjerke**

_XCom Base bar_

Coyne sat in the bar with Bob, his comrade Ansaldi Nadine, and a wounded but mobile Richard. He was swaying slightly and singing drunkenly. The other three were laughing, watching quietly and putting up with it respectively, but none were as inebriated as Coyne. It was a poorly kept secret that he couldn't handle his liquor nearly as well as someone of his drinking expertise would be expected to. It was the only time he used his height as an excuse. Richard seemed to be taking it easy on account of the Ockmann woman threatening him with further injury if he drank too much while under her care still. Bob was matching Coyne drink for drink, but just didn't seem to be getting any further than buzzed. Surprisingly, Nadine didn't seem overly affected either. Coyne didn't care much. He always drank for a little while after a comrade died- when he was off-duty, of course.

Coyne finished his song and beer in one go, belching lustily. "Aach, he was a good lad." Coyne slammed his mug on the table. "And I have never 'ad a better chicken in all my life. Me own mother could nary have cooked a better bird than the late Cpl. Brauhm." He wiped a tear from his eye in remembrance of the magnificent chicken. He turned a baleful eye on Richard. "He saved your life, ye ungrateful tosser, and you won't even drink to his name!" Coyne punctuated his statement by tipping his empty mug over his mouth, forgetting it was empty. He glared at it, and signaled haphazardly for another from the tender. Richard shook his head.

"Even if I desired to drink myself to blindness, I couldn't. I don't want to deal with Ockmann staring at me for another 5 straight minutes. Rarely have I felt so uncomfortable. That woman's eyes.." Richard shuddered slightly.

Coyne gestured vaguely. "Aach, well.. she was close with Brauhm. Yeh can't blame her. Ockmann just wants to make sure we all get through this OK, and I think she was reminded that she can't save everyone. So, she gets ter take it out on you." After this surprisingly insightful and coherent statement, Coyne's head swayed and slammed down onto the table. The drink he had previously ordered slid up and bumped his head lightly, to no reaction. As no one at the table moved, Bob shrugged and began to reach for it, but another hand reached it first- one riddled with scars.

The three remaining conscious drinkers both looked up at Lt. Ockmann, who was now holding the alcohol. She stared back severely. They all felt inexplicably guilty. She looked at Richard.

"Taking it easy, Lt.?" She asked evenly. Richard held his hands up.

"Get off my back, woman. With you breathing down my neck like this, I couldn't get drunk if I had every drop of booze at this bar," he grumbled irritably. He understood it was for good reason, but he hated the nagging.

"Glad to hear it." Ockmann gave no indication as to whether she had heard what Coyne had said. She grinned at their vaguely stressed expressions. "You guys shouldn't be so uptight." She tipped the mug back and quaffed the drink in one. She slammed it on the table, and turned around, walking out of the bar.

Richard looked at the other two, bemusement painted on his face. He quickly switched to a scowl. "Stop laughing, Bob. Come on; let's get this idiot to a bed."

**07:11, Day 13, 946.M41**

**Lead Corporal Coyne Bjerke**

_XCom Base Munitorium_

Coyne sat at a weapons table, looking over the sword Richard had lent him in case of deployment. He checked the power cell. It was in pristine condition, seeing as how Richard had only requisitioned it after being injured. The blade was sharp, even with the field down. Richard hadn't given him permission to modify the blade, so he grudgingly left it alone. The Inquisitor had denied him the same requisition. Seemed to think Coyne wasn't "responsible" enough. Bloody bastard. Looking back at the sword, his scowl softened into a more neutral expression. It seemed to be working just fine, so he sheathed it and left the room, nodding to the hulking female tech-priest overseeing the munitorium. She nodded back, with what might have been a smile. Coyne shook his head. Friendliest tech-priest he had ever seen. Weirded him out.

On his way out, the deployment alarm rang out shrilly. He flinched. He was still a bit hung-over from the night before. And the one before that. Oh well. He reported to mission control, double time. On the way, he met Cpl. Nadine. He rather liked the girl. Ansaldi did not speak when she didn't have anything to say, and never tried to stop him from talking- or at least didn't care. He liked that in a comrade. It also probably lent itself well to being stealthy, but Coyne had never bothered with that concern off the field. Regardless, he liked her. She listened to him, and knew her shit. She wasn't quite Maine Ockmann, but he was glad he had her as a comrade.

They entered the mission control center together. It was a hive of reports and shouts, guardsmen running across the room to deliver datapads and poking at a particular point on the holo-globe. The Inquisitor stood in the commander's position, mostly watching the proceedings impassively, receiving reports or giving orders as needed. Coyne and Ansaldi were the first two to arrive, but the rest of the on-call squad quickly filed in, Gabe the Ogryn barely fitting through the door. Bob grinned at Coyne as he walked in, a gesture he returned. The psyker and death corps. guy squeezed past the ogryn next. Coyne hadn't bothered to get to know either of them very well, which he now vaguely regretted. The Inquisitor wasted no time once the full ground team was present.

"Rebels have attacked a convoy of prisoners that we rescued from an abandoned heretic prisoner of war camp. We cannot allow them to be recaptured. They may have valuable information on the experiments similar to those carried out on the infamous 12th legion." He leveled a very serious gaze at them. "Their information is invaluable to our cause here. We need at least six of them for a reliable account. Your secondary objective is to subdue all rebel activity in the area. Dismissed."

**08:47, Day 13**

**Lead Corporal Coyne Bjerke**

_Operation Broken Moon_

As the Valkyrie touched down, Gabe barreled outside with a roar, his comrade barely restraining him from rushing off into the open on his own. Everyone else followed closely behind. Coyne looked around. They were in a derelict city, crumbling buildings all around. The rooftops were bristling with Korskian guards, and there were a number on the ground as well. He scowled. His first loyalty was to his comrades, and to the empire, but it was rough to fight his own people on his own planet. He shook off any doubts and drew his power sword, turning it on. Looking back, he saw Gabe toss Sgt. 'Gassy,' as Richard had dubbed the near-mute man in the gas mask, onto the nearest roof, so as to better utilize the souped-up multilaser he carried.

Coyne didn't pay too much attention to the rest of the squad, but sprinted towards the first unarmed guardsman he could see, taking cover behind a pallet and some rubble. Cpl. Nadine was hot on his heels, quiet and focused. They slid into cover beside the released prisoner, a few shots whizzing over their heads.

"Git yer skinny ass to the Valkyrie! We're about a block back, go!" He shouted over the shaken prisoner's questions. The man nodded and, when the gunfire around them lessened briefly, ran to the next spot of cover, making his way back to the ship. Coyne nodded, satisfied. Poking his head out, he saw that no one was paying him much attention. Multilasers struggled against missiles as the two heavy weapons vied for dominance. His other squadmates seemed to be spreading out and trying to save as many prisoners as they could, though the buildings they checked were empty more often than not. Bob in particular was running deep into enemy lines, causing mayhem wherever he went, followed more slowly by the massive Gabe.

Seeing a rebel ready his weapon on the area that his comrades were approaching, Coyne let out a snarl. Raising his sword, he charged out from his cover, screaming insults at the top of his lungs. Stealth had a time and place, he believed. He preferred to scare the living shit out of his enemies before he hit them- preferably by insulting their mother's promiscuity. Ansaldi evidently didn't agree, as she ran silently beside him with her chainsword held at the ready. The heretic turned towards them and fired a shot, but panic combined with the speed of their approach caused the laser to go wide. The guardsman brought his weapon up to parry, but Ansaldi knocked it out of the way with her sword, allowing her comrade the easy strike. He barely had a moment to scream before Coyne buried his weapon in his stomach. The burly scout then quickly whipped it out to strike his enemy's arm and leg in quick succession. The rebel dropped dead where he was, smoking from his wounds and the excess energy left by the power sword's field. Coyne took cover from further fire in the frame of the door. Ansaldi crouched down beside him.

After no follow-up shots were loosed- in their direction, anyway- they moved inside the building. There were two prisoners inside. "Come on yeh lumps, to our bird, double time. It's a couple of blocks down the road. Heads down, stay in cover. GO!" Coyne gestured furiously. The two former prisoners nodded understanding, and moved towards the door, waiting for a time to run. He glanced out the window. The battle raged on. Multilaser shots had almost demolished the top of the building across from the one Coyne was in, and the missile launcher was conspicuously absent. No one was watching for them. He glanced at Ansaldi. She looked at him steadily.

"Let's go dark." He said. She nodded, and they snuck to the other entrance of the building. Coyne was about to walk outside, when Ansaldi, without saying a word, grabbed the back of his belt and yanked hard, pulling him back a foot. He almost yelled at her, but saw where she was pointing. A heretic guardsman had been looking their way, either by coincidence or perception, and Coyne had almost walked right into his line of sight. The man shrugged and continued firing at some distant target. He was in range of a charge from Coyne, but the scout had bigger fish to fry. He wanted to get the guy with the missiles. He hated guys like that. No offense to good ol' Gassy with the multi-laser, but Coyne didn't like folks that took the high ground and then just lorded around with ranged weapons. They were his favourite silent takedown targets.

He and Ansaldi stole out the door as soon as the rebel looked away, and hid behind a small barricade. The morning light was still dim, but it would be more than enough for an alert guard to see them, even with their extensive stealth skills. Unfortunately, they had just crouched down and were waiting for a chance to get to the doors across the street, when the missile launcher toolbag stuck his damned head over the crenellations. It's hard to hide from a guy with the high ground, and Ansaldi accidentally kicked a loose can, drawing his attention. Not only did he radio his buddies, but he wasted no time in aiming his reloaded launcher directly at them. Coyne had barely enough time to give his comrade a withering look before diving as far as he could from the subsequent blast, she right beside him.

The fire and small shockwave hit them hard in the back, winding them, but doing no real damage. As soon as they were able, they scrambled to their feet and ran inside the door. They found themselves in a dilapidated hospital waiting area. The room was empty, so Coyne wasted no time in leading the charge up the stairs. As he reached the roof, however, he was just in time to watch a final few laser bolts tear through the rebels emplaced there. He swore loudly.

"Fer the love of the bloody Emperor, leave some fer me!" He sprinted to the edge of the roof nearest to where fighting was still taking place. His eyes widened slightly at the sight. Gabe was blocking the doorway of a squat building below, swinging wildly at anything that came near. As he watched, the massive creature reached into the building and grabbed a bloodied- but alive and kicking- Bob, taking him out of the building completely. Gabe then picked up the last prisoner alive and not yet safe and began lumbering away. A genestealer ran out of the building after him, snarling, but was torn to shreds by another round of multi-laser fire. Coyne wasted no further time in jumping to the ground, ready to take a swing at one of the few remaining rebels.

He and Ansaldi landed lightly, alert to any threats. A rebel ran at Coyne, shouting a challenge and waving a chainsword. "Fight me, then!" Coyne yelled with glee. He casually parried the incoming blow, shearing the heretic's weapon in two. Coyne laughed his great, booming laugh at the almost comical look of surprise on the man's face before striking the guardsman with a flurry of devastating blows, killing him nearly instantly. He turned away from the corpse to discern what his next objective was just in time to hear a massive explosion and witness a marvelous sight.

Gabe the ogryn was flying majestically through the air. It was no mere jump or leap, but an almost deliberate looking dive- if not for the look of disbelief on the big guy's face. Not to mention the spray of blood from the two bodies he was carrying. Coyne turned to cut down the man who had thrown the improbable explosive, only to see him taken down from range. With nothing further to kill, much of Coyne's expertise was useless, but he sprinted as fast as he could- which is saying something- to the side of those who had fallen.

There was nothing to be done for the unarmoured prisoner. They had been killed on explosion. However, the Commissar, despite bleeding heavily from at least three places, was not yet dead..somehow. (DEATH BY BLOod loss is herethy..) Coyne, using his survival skills, was able to help patch him up long enough to get him to the Valkyrie. Gabe, of course, got up from where he had fallen with hardly a scratch on him.

Inside the Valkyrie, Coyne counted the rescued prisoners to a backdrop of highly upset ogryn mutterings. Only five. He sighed irritably. That last grenade had cost them the mission. Coyne wished he had been faster. At least no one had died on their squad. When it came to hybrid and pure-strain xenos, he would take any small victory he could.

**11:28, Day 13**

**Lead Corporal Coyne Bjerke**

_XCOM Base Mission Control_

"Only five." The Inquisitor sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, as if to soothe a bad headache. "Well, we'll do what we can, but it's unlikely we'll get everything we need from just them. However, no one could have seen that grenade coming. The Emperor protect us against anything like that ever occurring again. Next time, focus more on getting the objective complete. And, do try a bit harder to keep Commissar out of the infirmary. I swear I will label a bed with his name. Dismissed!"

The tired ground crew shuffled out to hit the showers or go to the medical bay, whichever seemed more pressing. Coyne stayed behind, however. The Inquisitor met his challenging gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"Something you need, Lead Cpl.?"

Coyne winced slightly, but plowed on.

"Sir, can I have me own sword now? I ought to return Dick's, after all. And I hope yer convinced I'm decent with one by now." Coyne said this as boldly as he dared. It was somewhat like poking a dozing dragon, asking the Inquisitor a favour. However, it seemed the man was in fact giving his request real consideration. He nodded finally.

"Yes, I think that would do nicely, as I want you on the next mission as well. I'll have it sent to you before then."

Coyne was surprised, but pleased. "Thank you kindly, sir. And, ah.." Paullos looked at him once more, his patience evidently wearing thin.

"How is the search for Ockmann's new comrade coming? Only, she looks like she could use some help in the infirmary.." He trailed off. It was a lie, as Maine seemed to be coping just fine between herself, Thorne, and the man's comrade. But he was concerned for her nonetheless. It was rough not having someone specifically assigned to watch your back. The Inquisitor's eyes narrowed.

"We'll notify _her_ when we find a suitable replacement. It is none of your concern either way. Now, Lead Cpl.. _Dismissed._"

Coyne had never walked so quickly in his life.

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